


The Cabin

by plague of insomnia (chiealeman)



Series: Undertaker’s Tales of Terror [1]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Adult Ciel Phantomhive, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous Relationships, Creepypasta, Gen, Horror, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-31 03:43:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20785793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiealeman/pseuds/plague%20of%20insomnia
Summary: Ciel retreats to an isolated cabin deep in the woods for some much needed R&R. But when a sudden tropical storm hits, and a mysterious yet familiar stranger shows up at his door, inviting him to play a game, Ciel realizes that there may be far more on the line than he anticipated. . . .





	The Cabin

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written as part of the Autumn 2019 Sebaciel event, "Rainy Days" prompt.
> 
> I'm planning this as the first of several spooky stand-alones told by Undertaker and loosely inspired by shows like _Tales from the Crypt_, _Are You Afraid of the Dark?_ , and _Yamishibai_.
> 
> I want to give a huge shout out to @shinigami-mistress for helping me flesh the story out and bounce ideas. I wouldn't have been able to get this piece done if not for your help!
> 
> So grab your blanket, start your fire, and cuddle up with your popcorn--but brace yourself for thrills and chills. . . .

> _ “This is all just a game to see who wins. Even if I’m made to stand on the edge of despair in a hellish place, I won’t give up. I’ll grab the spider’s thread if it’ll help me crawl up out of there.” _
> 
> —(Ch 19, pg 14)

Darkness.

Light springs to life in a circle.

One.

By.

One.

In the center of the gloomy mortuary, a lone black coffin stands upright.

_ Creak. _

Its lid shifts to one side as long black nails peak over the edge and slide it away until a sinister toothy grin is revealed. The face mostly masked by gray hair that flows around the mysterious figure clad in dark robes.

“Welcome. To Undertaker’s Tales of Terror.” He cackles. “Everyone knows what it’s like to feel as if you’ve experienced something before: deja vu. But for one young executive, his desire for a quiet retreat in the autumn woods becomes horrible and hellish when he’s hit by a sudden storm.” Eerie green eyes glow from within the forest of hair. “Tonight, I present to you a tale of horror I call, ‘The Cabin.’”

X

Wind swirled around Ciel’s ankles as if attempting to ensnare him with an invisible lure, rain already pelting his hair and the ground around him as he gathered firewood from the stack to bring inside. Although southern autumns were warm, the temperature had dropped, the scent of humidity and damp earth filling his nostrils as he carried his load toward the back door of the small rental cabin.

In summer, this isolated stretch of woods was a popular vacation site, but now Ciel found himself alone with nothing but the elements and the trees as company.

Exactly as he’d intended.

Pausing at the door to adjust the bundle in his arms in order to free a hand, something caught his eye. Near the handle, scratched crudely into the wood, three lines with a subtle curve to them. Some kind of graffitti? An attempt at initials? Or perhaps a wild animal. He quickly dismissed it and entered.

The cabin was humble, an open kitchenette and small dining area on one side and a living area on the other, dominated by an enormous stone fireplace. Despite the coming storm, the weather was still warm, and yet a pervading chill filled the space, which had prompted Ciel to light the fire.

Once lit, Ciel pulled his phone out to check his emails out of habit only to be greeted by _ NO SERVICE _. “Right,” he said, pocketing it again. He’d chosen this locale precisely because it was off the grid and he’d wanted to unplug. No internet, no phone, no TV, just himself, nature, and his thoughts. He had worked without pause since he inherited his father’s company at 18, and now, ten years later, he’d finally taken a vacation. An opportunity to reassess his life.

Yet restlessness dogged him, as if his spirit were as active as the building storm that lashed the roof and howled in the chimney like a living beast. Unaccustomed to idleness, he paced until his gaze landed on the bookshelves flanking the fireplace.

He loved books, but the last decade he’d had no time for pleasure reading. Delighted, he selected a large volume and sat, the fire warming him as he dove into Poe’s familiar and unsettling tales.

He was halfway through “Cask of Amontillado” when the storm turned ugly. The wind screamed in the fireplace, making the flames dance. Thunder shook the cabin, its boom echoing long after. And the rain fell with a vengeance, pounding out its rhythm on the roof.

Setting his book aside, Ciel turned on the radio--the only link the world outside. Static _ scratched _ and _ screeched _ until he finally found an active station, the signal stuttering, perhaps due to the weather.

_“—a sudden tropical storm. The following counties are under a flood warning until—” _

Ciel sighed and shut the radio off again. He had always enjoyed rainy days, even violent storms. Although they had frightened him when he was very young, his twin had always been there to comfort him, and they’d held each other through the worst of the crashes and booms and brilliant flashes of light.

Goosebumps sprung up on his skin and he swallowed thickly. Weather like this always reminded him. But his twin was long gone, and memories were a waste of brain power.

So he returned to his book. Better to get lost in Poe’s familiar stories. The storm lent atmosphere to each spooky tale, which he experienced as if for the first time and yet with the knowledge and recognition of years of re-reading. But Poe could not hold his attention, his gaze roving away from the pages to explore the cabin. Although he had chosen this place because he had never visited before, from the moment he pulled off the main highway and headed deep into the forest, this pervading sense of deja vu and gripped him and never let go.

The large, round stones of the fireplace. The weathered wooden beams supporting the ceiling. The stag head mounted above the mantel. The rugged furniture constructed from hewn logs and woven wool.

It was all so very _ familiar _.

He tried to dismiss the feeling; after all, the decor was to be expected. Anticipated, even. Perhaps a nightcap to settle his mind, and then off to bed, he reasoned. The point of this trip was rest and reflection, after all.

* * *

Unsettling familiarity stalked him as he navigated the kitchen cabinets; he found everything he needed on his first attempt.

“Nonsense,” he muttered. His personal assistant, Finny, had worked closely with him for a decade and knew him better than he did himself. It was his job to anticipate Ciel. When he’d stocked the kitchen, he’d simply put everything where Ciel would wish it to be. Simple as that.

And yet a prickle of unease settled along his limbs.

Thunder boomed powerfully enough to rattle the glassware.

The lights flickered.

Once. Twice.

Darkness.

Only the crackling fire pierced the gloom, its orange glow wavering over the stones and furniture.

“Fuck.” Ciel easily found a lantern and matches, and had only just ignited it when a loud knock shook the door, as if the storm itself were attempting to breach it.

Initially, he suspected it had been the wind, or perhaps more thunder, but when he approached it, he felt compelled to peer through the peephole. Yet all he could see was all-consuming black.

A second knock.

He jumped back, startled, heart hammering in his throat. Dread swept over him like a coat of slime. He tried to sheer it off with logic. It was the storm. He was alone in these woods.

Alone.

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _ Pounding. Insisting. Demanding.

The mood of Poe’s stories, his fatigue, the weather, it was all blending into a vivid waking dream. That’s all this was. The weaving of his imagination.

With that realization, the knocking ceased.

Ciel sighed, relieved. Perhaps it would be better to skip the drink and go directly to bed.

_Boom. Boom. Boom. _

Stopping in his path, Ciel turned slowly, holding the lantern as if it would somehow illuminate whatever lay on the other side of the door. Hastily, he grabbed a nearby broom as a primitive weapon against whatever horror lay outside. Ignoring the hair prickling on his neck, he set the lantern on a small table near the entrance and steeled himself. Reached for the handle. Held his breath.

As soon as it opened a crack, the door tore from his hand and threw itself against the wall on a gust of damp air.

The weather roared as if in greeting, howling and raging far louder now that it was no longer restrained by the door.

And standing in the center of it all was a man. Tall and thin, dark hair plastered to his pale face, arms wrapped tightly around himself. The torrential rain continued to drench him; his soaked shirt and jeans clung to his body, giving Ciel a glimpse of a toned stomach and pert nipples.

Ciel inhaled sharply and forced himself to look up into the man’s eyes, his face difficult to make out in the poor light. Remembering the lantern, he retrieved it, still keeping the broom between him and the stranger.

The man shivered. He may have smiled, although it was difficult to make out his expression. “Pardon for disturbing you. My car flooded and stalled,” he explained with a British accent that sounded refined and foreign, considering they were in the middle of a remote forest in the American South.

“What were you doing out in this storm?” Ciel’s tone was accusing; he raised the broom.

The stranger’s gaze darted from it back to Ciel’s face. “I planned to meet a friend. Got caught when the weather turned. Please may I come in and dry off? Perhaps wait for the rain to stop?”

Every instinct told Ciel to turn the handsome stranger away, and yet something about that voice, as unexpected as it was, tugged at his memory. So he stepped back, setting the broom aside.

“Thank you for inviting me in,” the man said with a smile that revealed sharp canines. A puddle of water formed at his feet as his clothes dripped onto the floor. He started to wipe his hand on his damp pants, caught himself, and extended it anyway. “I’m a bit sopping, I’m afraid. Sebastian Michaelis.”

Ciel eyed Sebastian warily. He was famous. Perhaps not as recognizable as Bill Gates or Jeff Bezos or Steve Jobs, but his face was often in the news. Normally, it was nearly impossible for him to go anywhere without his bodyguard, Bard, whom he seriously regretted leaving behind right now. “Ciel,” he said, purposefully omitting his surname, bracing for Sebastian to recognize him, keeping the shake short because of the man’s moist palm.

If he knew who Ciel was, he didn’t show it. “A pleasure,” he said, still smiling. The expression was somehow both welcoming and unsettling, charming and disturbing.

The fire crackled. The door groaned as Ciel shut it, using all his weight to fight the wind that warred against him. Almost as if nature itself was warning him not to be trapped inside with Sebastian. A ridiculous thought, but one that slithered its way around Ciel’s brain nonetheless.

With a thud, it closed at last, muting the sounds of the storm other than that insistent howling in the chimney.

“You’re welcome to shower. I’ll find you some towels and clothes.” Now that Sebastian was better illuminated by the fire and lantern, Ciel took a moment to truly look him over. Far taller and broader than Ciel. Finding something to fit him might be tricky. A brief image of Sebastian reclining naked on the sofa popped into his mind before he quickly squashed the thought.

As if he could sense what Ciel was thinking, Sebastian smirked.

“Remove your shoes and leave them there,” Ciel said with authority, not allowing some wet stranger to embarrass him. “Follow me.”

Sebastian started stripping off his shirt, long black-nailed fingers prying open each button, beginning at the top and working down to his waist, revealing skin so pale it was nearly albino. Like marble, the stranger’s body was statuesque and captivating. “You’re welcome to join me.”

Ciel hardened his expression. “Your shoes.”

“Of course,” Sebastian said, tongue swiping over his lips as he pried off his footwear, leaving them on the floor in the puddle by the door. “I think I can find the bathroom,” He said as he shrugged out of his shirt, eyes fixed hungrily on Ciel’s for an uncomfortable moment before he disappeared into the back hall.

It was only once Ciel was alone and out of the magnetic presence that he realized something _ off _ about Sebastian’s boots. Despite the flooding rain, which must have turned the forest floor into a dangerous mire, the stranger’s boots were wet.

But _ clean _.

Not a speck of mud, as if Sebastian had somehow magically appeared on the rain-drenched porch.

* * *

The hallway loomed dark ahead as Ciel used the sound of the shower spray to guide him. The light from his lantern danced along the walls as he balanced a bundle of towels and clothes in one arm. Mysteriously, he had managed to find a sweater and pants that looked like they’d fit Sebastian. Either Finny had suspected this retreat was Ciel’s attempt at a surreptitious tryst, or whomever had stayed here before had left something behind.

Only a small lantern lit the bathroom, making it uncomfortably dim. He could barely make out the form of Sebastian behind the curtain, lean and long limbed just as Ciel liked his men. (Not that he’d been seeing any lately, except in his mind when he jacked off each morning.)

Being the face of a major corporation in a generally homophobic climate meant keeping a certain public face and his sexuality a secret. A lonely and frustrating existence, but one he’d thought he could tolerate. Taking up Sebastian’s invitation was dizzyingly tempting.

Again, as if reading Ciel’s mind, Sebastian called out, “Offer’s still open.”

Ciel froze. He had been silent; even the door hadn’t creaked when he’d pushed it open. Then his gaze fell to the lantern in his hand, its flame flickering. “I’m leaving everything here,” he said as he deposited the items on the vanity. “Take your time.” Ciel eyed the soiled clothes on the floor. He could pry the man’s ID out of his wallet, send it to Finny for a quick background check. But then he remembered he was isolated here by his own intent. 

Sebastian’s only response was to begin humming. It took Ciel a moment to realize it was bits of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.”

If Sebastian had come to kill him, then perhaps he needed to embrace his fate. Yet Ciel had never blindly accepted anything without a fight. He loved games, but he hated losing.

* * *

“‘It is by no means an irrational fancy that, in a future existence, we shall look upon what we think our present existence, as a dream.’” Sebastian read from the open book in Ciel’s lap, looming over the smaller man suddenly.

“Shit!” Ciel jumped, casting his gaze upward at the firm chest above him and then back again, peering into the eerie upside-down, dangling dark hair as the man bent over him from behind the couch. Sebastian had seemingly appeared out of nowhere--or perhaps he was simply so engrossed in his reading he hadn’t noticed.

Sebastian chuckled and stood up, walking around so they could still see one another. The borrowed clothes fit as if they’d been made for him, outlining the “V” of his torso, strong shoulders leading down to a narrow waist, fitted slacks and bare feet with toes that were curiously painted black to match his manicure. “Since it seems like we’ll be here for some time, I thought we might need something to amuse ourselves.” His smile was feral and yet inviting and sensual, his tongue darting out to swipe over his lips.

Heat pooled in Ciel’s stomach, a blush blooming from his chest up. “Excuse me?”

Seemingly amused by the other’s discomfort, Sebastian covered his mouth with his fist as if to contain a laugh. “I simply meant we might play a game.”

“A game?” Ciel shut his book, intrigued.

“Yes. I fancy a good competition myself, and I happened to find this--” He retrieved a large wooden box from the sofa table. “In one of the closets. It’s apparently some kind of board game. Shall we play?” The tips of his overlong canines caught the light of the fire and shone, like his mahogany eyes, which appeared to glow.

Ciel accepted the box, setting it in his lap. It was heavy, and appeared old. Carved in the top were the words, _ The Spider’s Thread _. Perhaps the name of the game?

“Why don’t I make us both a hot drink while you set that up?”

Ciel nodded absently, entranced. He was acquainted with every board game his company made, as well as those of many others, both present and past, as it was necessary for product development. But this one was unique. The board itself was thick and weighty, also made of some sort of wood rather than chipboard, like a nice chessboard, only larger. It had many intricately carved accessories to help bring the atmosphere of the board to life, and yet only had two pawns: a mouse and a raven, one carved out of what appeared to be bone or ivory, and the other from ebony. Ciel also found a deck of cards in their own case along with two red die with white dots. No instructions, but from what he could tell of the cards and the words written on various spaces of the board, it seemed as if a player rolled the dice, moved the indicated number of spots, many prompting the player to draw a card. The instructions on the few that he read were curious, almost nonsensical. Perhaps there was an element of a puzzle or mystery to the game that a player had to work out in order to make it safely to the end, as it appeared there were snares and traps and dead ends to lure the player away from his goal.

“‘Spider’s Web’ would have made a better title,” Ciel mused as he arranged all the components. With each element, Ciel’s deja vu from earlier returned with a vengeance. While the storm continued to rage outside, the rain hammering the roof and the wind whistling in the chimney, the atmosphere within had shifted. Almost like the prelude to an asthma attack, the air felt foreign and stifling, his chest tight, and yet Ciel could sense this was external, probably something to do with the pressure differences due to the weather. The Poe quote Sebastian had read certainly was getting to him. He longed for sleep, and yet did not relish leaving himself unguarded with this stranger.

“Here you go,” Sebastian announced, as if—once more—he knew Ciel had been thinking of him. He moved so silently, he startled the smaller man again. “European-style hot chocolate with a hint of cinnamon and brandy, to warm you from within.” Another one of those sexy, yet sinister smiles.

Ciel accepted the drink graciously, and yet, as he blew on its surface, he mused as to how Sebastian had managed to concoct such an elaborate beverage with the supplies in the kitchen. Ciel wasn’t much of a cook, which Finny knew, and he would have planned accordingly. Before taking a sip, he eyed the stranger over the rim of his mug. Through the steam, he could have sworn the man took on a beastly, inhuman appearance, like a shadow come to life, but when he blinked, Sebastian was perched on the opposite sofa, one long leg crossed over the other, enjoying the fruits of his labors. Very much human shaped, his gaze reminiscent of a cat. Finally risking a taste, Ciel drank, the warm chocolate coating his mouth in decadence.

“Good, isn’t it,” Sebastian said with satisfaction.

Ciel nodded. He wasn’t drunk. He couldn’t have been. Not from a single sip of brandy, not so suddenly. And yet his thoughts seemed to float and hover like moths dancing around a flame, and he struggled to grasp any of them.

“Are you ready to play, Ciel?” Sebastian asked, gaze intense. “You must make the first move.”

Ciel stilled. Sebastian’s words echoed in his mind, reverberating with such a stifling sense of familiarity he had to pause and reevaluate his surroundings. It was like realizing he was in a dream yet unable to escape it. “Ri--ight,” he said at last, shakily. He decided as delicious as the drink was, perhaps the alcohol _ was _affecting him and it was best he set it aside.

Ciel rolled first and moved accordingly, until he landed on a space that indicated he should draw a card. “‘Your confusion will resolve soon,’” he read aloud. More like a fortune than a game prompt, and yet it made him uneasy. In the light of the fire, Sebastian’s handsome features were outlined with an orange glow.

Ciel hadn’t realized he’d been staring until the man leaned forward, plucking the card from Ciel’s fingers. “Should’ve taken me up on the shower.”

Closing his eyes, Ciel felt Sebastian sit beside him, thigh to thigh, a finger tracing his face, over his jaw to his lips before leaning forward and sampling. The kiss was like magma. Beautiful, hot, destructive, and Ciel wanted to give all of himself to this stranger. It had been so, so long since he’d allowed himself the pleasure of another man. When Sebastian pushed against his chest, he obeyed, leaning back until he hit the couch cushion, wrapping his legs around the larger man’s waist when he climbed over him. Groaning as the stranger’s hot lips roved down his neck, biting at the junction of his shoulder as if to leave a mark.

Panting, Ciel opened his eyes. For an instant, he saw two glowing red orbs.

“Ciel? Are you quite all right?”

Sebastian’s voice seemed to snap reality back into place. It was only then Ciel realized they were both still sitting across from each other. He touched his lips absently, eyeing the stranger warily. Had it all been some kind of daydream? It had felt so real. Realizing the time for responding was ticking, he cleared his throat, and with all of his years of training, replied in a composed voice, “Of course. I’m merely tired and faded off for a moment.” Ciel snatched the cards back with a huff, focusing on moving his piece to the indicated spot, “the forest of enlightenment.”

Sebastian shrugged, clearly amused although he said nothing more, peering to see the words written on the board. He clicked his tongue. “Looks like you lose two turns.” He rolled, moving absently, all his focus on Ciel. “How well do you know the area?”

Ciel sensed something dangerous about the stranger. No matter how attractive and alluring he might seem, something in Ciel urged caution. It wouldn’t do to suggest he had never been here before, would it?

However, his hesitation proved answer enough. “Let me tell you a story, Ciel. They say these woods are haunted.”

Scoffing, he replied, “Don’t tell me you honestly believe that sort of thing.”

As Sebastian took his next turn, he mused, “There is far more to this world than what we see on the surface.” He drew a card. “‘The darkness pursues you. Move ahead five spaces.’” The raven marker clicked against the board as he followed the prompt. “A long time ago,” he spoke, beginning his tale without Ciel agreeing to hear it, “a man made a deal with a devil.” Sebastian’s hand lingered for longer than necessary as he handed Ciel the dice, gaze locked on the smaller man, firelight aglow in those peculiar eyes.

“Let me guess: in exchange for his soul,” Ciel said, bored, taking his turn. The number six flashed in his mind, and to his surprise, the dice landed on double threes.

“Quite right. The devil’s power made the man very successful and envied by many.” Sebastian continued to weave his story, his rich baritone with its posh accent seeming to reverberate around the cabin. “But when it came time to give the devil his due—”

“The man didn’t want to pay.” Ciel wasn’t certain if the tale was that trite or if it was mere coincidence. And yet every roll had come up exactly as he’d expected it for the last few turns, certainly more than could be attributed to coincidence. Foreboding clung to his skin like sweat, and yet Sebastian seemed unperturbed.

“Precisely.” He rolled and moved, though he seemed far more interested in observing Ciel than the board game. “The man had heard of a woman—the Green Witch—who could help him retain his soul.”

Ciel nodded absently, stomach clenching when he predicted--knew?--what he would roll next. Nausea grew when he selected a card, the words printed on it _ expected _: “‘He’s watching you. Move quickly. Move ahead nine spaces.’” Ciel swallowed, trying to seem calm and disaffected, although his hand shook as he reached for his avatar, knocking it across the board.

Sebastian hummed, more of “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” licked his lips, before grasping the playing piece with delicate, black-nailed fingers, examining it almost hungrily. “Trying to escape already?” he said cryptically.

“What?” Ciel’s voice squeaked, and he cleared his throat and decided to take another sip of his drink just to wet it.

Although Ciel had not read his card aloud or showed it to Sebastian, the mysterious man placed Ciel’s piece exactly where it should have been.This was becoming far, far more than simple unease. He began to wonder if Sebastian was playing a game with him--only it wasn’t the one on the coffee table between them, but something far grander.

The dice _ click-clacked _ as they hit the table, revealing snake eyes. The white dots standing out amidst the red seemed to stare at Ciel.

Ridiculous, he knew, and yet he felt sweat slide down his back, and his gaze began to search the room not entirely of his free will.

“The man visited the witch,” Sebastian said, continuing his story as if he had never been interrupted. “Her home was hidden deep within the forest, and it was no easy task for the man to find her, and yet he did. He offered her all his money and possessions if she would help him, but she had no need of such things. And yet she would not help him for free.”

Ciel swallowed thickly as he noticed the space Sebastian had landed on said, _ Hag’s Home _ with a small silhouette of the stereotypical witch. He hurriedly grabbed the dice and moved, grateful when he landed on a spot that was marked, _ Safe Space _ , although below it was tiny writing he struggled to make out in the dim light. _ But not for long . . . ? _ What the fuck was with this game?

Sebastian rolled and chose a card, showing it to Ciel. _ The witch demands payment. _“A soul is no small thing, Ciel. To save his own, the witch required an equal sacrifice.”

Heart pounding, mouth dry, palms slick, Ciel asked, “Wh—what did the man offer, then?”’

Leaning forward, Sebastian grinned, his teeth appearing menacing and oversharp, the fire casting a disconcerting pall of shadow and light across his pale features. “Oh, but you already know, don’t you?”

Ciel’s heart had crawled into his throat as if attempting to flee his body. He wanted to protest, to tell Sebastian he was insane, and yet he knew. He _ knew _ . His hands were sweating and shaking, and he started to wipe them on his pants, and yet they stuck rather than slid. He glanced down and saw _ red _, streaks of it across his jeans, and when he lifted his hands—

_ Blood _.

Coating his palms like paint.

Bile surged up and Ciel fled, rushing through the dark, stumbling down the unfamiliar hall, searching out the bathroom where only minutes earlier his guest had propositioned him.

The _ squeak _ of the faucets turning as he frantically twisted them, thrusting his stained hands beneath the water, scrubbing furiously to try to clean them.

Through a small window high on the outer wall, the bathroom was illuminated whenever lightning flashed. A strike, brilliant blue. For only an instant, Ciel met his eyes in the mirror. Sapphire turned black by darkness. A trail of blood leaking from one down youthful cheeks. Then another. And another.

_ Not _ his eyes.

_ Not _ his face.

His twin smiled, teeth coated red.

“No. No. You’re dead. You died.” Hands damp, water running, Ciel retreated, shaking his head. Even in the dark, the image lingered, arms stretching toward him. “No!” Ciel bumped into something firm and scrambled away--the wall?

Sebastian. “You were gone for some time, so I thought I would check on you. Did something happen?”

Eyes wide, Ciel kept his distance, gaze jumping from the mirror to the stranger, certain now of one thing: he needed to flee. “Fine. I’m fine,” he said, trying to see around Sebastian, to figure if he could get past the much larger man and once again regretting not bringing Bard with him. “I, uh, just realized I forgot something. In my car. Outside. So.” Ciel offered a smile he hoped hid his terror. “I’ll just go grab it.”

Sebastian seemed to consider this. “I suppose the game can wait. If you insist on leaving, I can’t stop you.” He stepped aside, holding his arm out and bowing just slightly. When lightning highlighted his face once more, his skin appeared ashen, his cheeks hollower, his eyes brighter, his teeth sharper. “I will get you in the end.”

Ciel stumbled toward the door, toward escape, toward freedom, never taking his eyes off Sebastian, the word “What?” falling from his mouth like a curse.

Grin widening, Sebastian rose to his full height—had he always been that tall?—and explained, “The game, of course. Our little contest. I will win. I _ always _do.”

* * *

In his panic, Ciel had grossly underestimated how poor visibility would be between the rain and the oppressive darkness of the forest. But he needed to get out of here. He didn’t care where, just as far from Sebastian as possible. He could still feel the man looming over him, still see that smile and those eyes that, in the firelight, had appeared to burn with the flames of hell.

The hammering of the rain on the hood and roof of the car combined with the rapid swish of the wipers as they struggled in vain to clear the windshield. Even with his brights, Ciel had to lean forward to try to peer through the murk and gloom, heart thudding loud enough to nearly drown out all else.

The car rocked and pitched like a boat caught in a squall, and Ciel became worried he might have drifted off the road, and yet the view never changed from bleak and wet and dark as pitch.

_Splash. Splash. Splash _. Beneath his tires like white noise.

The vehicle’s nose dipped. Cold water rushed into the cabin, surrounding Ciel’s ankles.

The engine sputtered

The car jerked, then stalled.

“No. No. No. No. No.” Ciel pressed the ignition button repeatedly, like a kid in an arcade desperately trying to beat a fighting game.

Nothing.

The deluge continued, violent and roaring like a creature awakened suddenly from a long slumber.

Ciel’s eyes slid up to his rearview mirror. They morphed into his twin’s. Then orbs of glowing red.

_ “I will win. I _ ** _always_ ** _ do.” _ Sebastian’s words reverberated in Ciel’s mind, almost as if they were a part of the storm itself.

Breath coming in ragged puffs, Ciel threw his door open, the chime blending with the howl of wind and rain.

His feet sunk into the mud, the only light his headlights, the interior of the car beside him, and the occasional flash of lightning.

Large drops pounded his skull as if they were nails driving into his brain. Without another thought, he pried himself loose from the muck and took off in a run, phone flashlight struggling to pierce the darkness as its pale light swung in front of him. Glancing back, he swore he saw the shadows move.

Scarlet circles chased him.

_Just my headlights and my brain playing tricks _ , Ciel reasoned, moving faster, breathing raggedly, unsure of his direction. All that mattered was _ away _.

Logic couldn’t erase the feeling of pursuit, like a rabbit hunted by a fox, so he _ ran _.

And ran.

And ran.

Until he saw a light in the distance, a beacon.

Dodging trees, damp branches clinging to him like the fingers of the dead rising up from the Styx, he charged toward safety.

Lungs burning, wet clothes weighing him down.

He lost a shoe to a root or mud, he wasn’t sure, but pausing for long wasn’t an option. Whatever was out there—that _ presence —_would catch him. He knew it with every cell in his body. Instinct. Millions of years of evolution pushing him.

Continue or perish.

Finally, he could see the glow of a window. The outline of a cabin. The haze of smoke from a chimney working itself up into the night.

He staggered up to it, nearly tripping on firewood, elation and satisfaction sweeping him as he panted, every fiber of his being aching from exertion and fear. Adrenaline waning, making his limbs wobbly and weak.

He nearly fell on the door, pounding against it, struggling to catch his breath.

He heard someone moving inside.

“Help! Help me! Please open up!”

His fingers scratched at the wood, pawing at it. He was cornered. Almost caught. He just had to make it inside--

Thunder shook the ground. Lightning illuminated his field of vision.

Gaze locked in horror at the marks gouged in the door near his bloody fingers. Familiar. As if they were initials. Or from a trapped beast.

_Click-clack _ of a lock.

_Creak —_the door opened.

A rush of heated air met his skin.

An elegant English accent.

“I told you. I always win.”

**x**

_ Click. Clack. Click. _ “‘Lose a turn,’” Undertaker places his pawn on a space of a board game similar to the one in the story. “Looks like Ciel should have paid his debts after all, hmm? You should never agree to play a game when you don’t know the rules.” A finger with a long black nail rests against his scarred face. “But don’t look so glum. Perhaps Ciel will fair better the next time around. After all, they do say, if at first you don’t escape your demon, try, try again!” His cackle echoes in the cluttered but otherwise empty mortuary.

Undertaker climbs back into his upright coffin and begins to pull the lid back in place. “That tale exhausted me. Time to sleep like the dead.” The lid _ scrapes _ and _ screeches _in protest. A green eye glows. “But don’t worry; I have plenty more spooky stories to keep you up at night. So visit again, and I will share, and perhaps fit you for one of my fine coffins while you’re here.”

The lid sinks into place with a _ clunk _.

Maniacal laughter fills the room, seemingly without a source as each light is extinguished.

One.

By.

One.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you enjoyed this piece, please let me know by leaving a comment!
> 
> Anything works, from a simple "I liked this" to even the most complex!
> 
> Tell me what you liked best, or what you think really happened! What did you think of Sebastian in this? Any of you planning on renting a cabin deep in the woods...?
> 
> Feel free to let me know what other tales you hope Undertaker will share!
> 
> I also love getting asks, so feel free to follow me on tumblr if you don't already @plague-of-insomnia. Send me asks (even if they're anon if you're nice)!
> 
> <3
> 
> Happy Halloween!


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